Captured By The Mafia Boss

Heaton was abruptly roused from her sleep by the cacophony of crashing objects. She shot out of bed, her heart pounding, and irritation etching lines on her face. It wasn't even six in the morning. The source of the commotion was most likely her cousin, Claudia, known for her tantrums and outrageous demands.

Claudia was the pampered princess of the family, and she made sure everyone knew it. Her uncle had taken Heaton in after her father's passing, but living with them felt like a never-ending nightmare. Heaton had become the family's unofficial maid and punching bag, enduring physical and emotional abuse from Claudia and her aunt.

Heaton had no intention of getting involved in another one of Claudia's outbursts. She knew that when Claudia lost her temper, things tended to fly through the air. Instead, Heaton buried her head back into her pillow, hoping for a few more minutes of sleep. However, a loud, urgent knock on her door shattered that hope.

Panicked and unusual for their housekeeper, Susan's tone told Heaton that something was seriously wrong. "Susan!" Heaton exclaimed, opening her door. "What's happening? I hear a lot of noise."

"I'm sorry, miss, but you need to come downstairs and see for yourself," Susan replied, already ushering her down the stairs.

They hurried down to the source of the commotion. The noise grew louder with each step, and Heaton 's heart raced. When she reached the bottom of the staircase, she was met with a terrifying sight-strangers, seemingly gangsters, were wrecking their living room. Her heart sank. How had they managed to breach the security?

A quick glance to the corner revealed her aunt and cousin huddled together in fear, their screams echoing each time something shattered. It was clear that the intruders enjoyed terrorizing them.

Although terrified, Heaton couldn't simply stand by. This was her home too, and she'd bear the brunt of her aunt's wrath if she did nothing. She gathered her courage and approached the chaos. "What's going on here?" she demanded.

However, her question only seemed to incite the intruders further. They continued their destruction, ignoring her. Frustration and anger coursed through Heaton 's veins, and she raised her voice, quoting a legal statute she'd memorized.

"Sec. 19-77. - Entering property of another for the purpose of damaging it: It shall be unlawful for any person to enter the land, dwelling, outhouse, or any other building of another for the purpose of damaging such property or any of the contents thereof or in any manner to interfere with the rights of the owner, user or the occupant thereof to use such property free from interference. Any person violating this section shall be guilty of a Class 1 misdemeanor!"

This time, her words did get their attention. The intruders turned to her, and the room fell silent. She felt their piercing gazes on her, and for a moment, she regretted her outburst.

Then, one of the men stepped forward, clapping slowly and we Heaton ng a mocking smile. "Finally, a lawyer in her midst," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Heaton lifted her chin. "I'm not a lawyer, but every citizen should know their rights. Now, what's the meaning of this madness? You can't just come into someone's home and act like you own the place."

The man's arrogance persisted. "You're right, I can't just come in. But the law should have taught your family not to take a loan without paying it back."

Heaton 's face paled as the horrifying truth dawned on her. These were not mere gangsters; they were ruthless loan sharks. She couldn't believe it.

Heaton was jolted by a harsh reality. Her uncle had not only borrowed money but from loan sharks. It was an unimaginable decision. In shock, she turned to her aunt and cousin, her voice barely above a whisper as she asked, "Is that true?"

Claudia, surprisingly subdued, explained, "Father had invested all his money into a company research project, hoping for a big payoff by now. Unfortunately, delays occurred, and he had no choice but to resort to this method."

Heaton couldn't believe it. "Why didn't you tell me? You know how sensitive this matter is, and yet you all kept it from me?"

Claudia's response dripped with contempt. "Why? What could you have done? Offer your trust fund?"

It was clear that their eyes were on her trust fund. Her father had set up a trust that she would control when she turned twenty-four. At twenty-three, she was just a year away from claiming her fortune. Despite the significant benefits her uncle had reaped from her father's death, they still claimed she owed them.

Heaton 's aunt would often lash out at her, using the shelter they provided as leverage. Heaton always retorted, insisting that those businesses belonged to her father. But their greed knew no bounds. They awaited her trust money to bill her, claiming they had raised her for years and deserved compensation.

The situation took an unexpected turn when a man from earlier, who appeared to be the collector, said, "As much as this has been interesting, it cannot provide our money."

Claudia couldn't contain her anger. She criticized the loan sharks for charging them exorbitant interest rates and called them out as "sharks in the ocean that prey on their victims."

The collector, seemingly bored, ordered one of his men to silence Claudia. They forcibly gagged her. Then, the collector turned to Heaton , asking, "Your father pledged this house as collateral. Now his payment is overdue. I should collect, right?"

Heaton decided to play along with the criminal, saying, "Of course you should take the house; a deal is a deal."

Her aunt erupted, and the collector ordered her gagged as well. Strangely, this sight brought satisfaction to Heaton , given the years of mistreatment by her uncle's family.

The collector then proposed a surprising solution. He suggested that Heaton marry their boss, Big Joe, to settle the debt. Heaton firmly rejected the offer, refusing to offer herself or her body to Big Joe.

With impatience mounting, the collector indicated that they were running out of time. Heaton pleaded for more time, promising that her uncle would provide the money.

The collector's response was ominous. "Fine, but we'll be back," he warned before leaving. Heaton breathed a sigh of relief, thinking the worst was over. Or so she believed.

Oh, I'm a yummy, tummy, funny, lucky gummy bear,"

A young man nonchalantly sang along to the music playing out from his cellphone. He threw a piece of gummy candy into the air and caught it inside his mouth while the anguished howl of a man rang out in the hall. However, he didn't seem to mind, instead, the sound of his pain excited him; it made his blood throb.

They were obviously in some sort of basement that was poorly illuminated while a man was tied to a chair screaming out his lungs as his torturers burnt his skin with cigarettes. An excruciating scream left the man's mouth, he felt like dying yet they wouldn't let him die.

Why would they? He laughed inwardly. This was Noel he was dealing with, the heartless, ruthless, psychopathic Mafia Lord of the Luciano clan. A family who conducts themselves as businessmen but in reality are a bunch of killers walking around in expensive suits and dresses.

"Three times you can bite me," Noel continued with his singing amid the inhumane shriek from the tortured soul - a scream even capable of waking the dead from their slumber. However, the man simply swiped at his blonde lock that had fallen across his face.

Noel was breathtakingly handsome - even a blind man could see that - the same innocuous look that has sent many to their grave. Unlike the rough but attractive features of most males, he was the opposite of that, Noel could be described as effeminate. He looked as harmless as a dove and it was those innocent features that had made many people estimate him only to end up with a bullet in their forehead.

Lips as red as wine, thick sexy eyelashes,and a head full of tousled blonde locks with rare gray eyes that appeared green or sometimes blue under the sunlight; Noel was gorgeous. His jawbones angles were shaped nor did he grow a beard to rule out his delicate look. The man learned to embrace this delicate side of him and turned it into a weapon. He was a trained seducer who could get what he wanted from women and his male counterpart effortlessly.

Tall yet proportionally lean, Noel had the body of a professional model, that if it wasn't for unsmiling face and fierce piercing gaze, plus his fear-inspiring bodyguards, he would have been sought out by talent scouts already. However, that cute face was not to be trifled with.

Suddenly the song ended and none played afterward. Silence would have reigned if not for the scream of affliction from their captive.

"Are we done?" Noel asked, taking off his gold-rimmed glasses. He was dressed in a high-class sophisticated suit which was a huge contrast against this kind of setting. However, no one was complaining - he was the boss.

"No sir, he's still not confessing," One of his men answered while the man continued to wail.

Noel sighed, "I can't believe I have to do everything by myself," He rose to his feet and snatched the report from the man's hands, simply glancing over it.

With a hand in his pocket, Noel gracefully strode over to his prisoner. His men upon noticing his arrival, stopped their torture and made space for him.

"You look good Peter," Noel gave him a casual look, his words dripping with sarcasm. The man was bloody from his head to the sole of his feet.

"Noel ," Peter spoke through gritted teeth, anguish in his heart. How he wished he could rip off the man's face right now.

"Let's have a simple conversation, Peter, shall we? I'm kind of a magnanimous man," Noel said and even without gesturing to his men, his chair was brought over.

Noel sat down, crossing his leg over the other without breaking his gaze with Peter who stared fiercely at him, resentment obvious in his gaze.

Seated comfortably, Noel began, "Where are my guns, Peter?" A whole arsenal of weapons had been stolen by one of his own people and he wasn't happy about that.

Peter shot him a look of disdain, "Like I would tell you,"

"Of course, you wouldn't," Noel concurred, "Which is why I'm currently seating here because my men are unable to get the job done,"

"You're just wasting your time. You can torture me all you want, but you're not getting a thing out of my mouth. That's a promise," He was resolute.

For a moment, Noel didn't say a word and simply read out from the report, "Peter Ivanov, thirty-five years old. No father, mother, grandmother, nearest relatives, and most of all, no girlfriend or wife..." Noel lifted his face, "Which means you have nothing to lose because you're not afraid of death nor do you have something that can be used against you,"

Peter smirked, as if saying, "I told you so, "

But Noel was not distressed, instead, a smile curved his mouth when he announced, "All except one,"

Peter's face furrowed, confused by his comment.

There was a playful yet dangerous glint in Noel 's eyes as he snapped his fingers and a woman stepped into the basement, her heels click-clacking against the floor, and in her grasp was a rare snow-white Chihuahua pressed to her chest.

The once confident look vanished from Peter's face, replaced by a trace of panic. He shifted uneasily on his seat as a cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

Noel smirked, he was right. Everyone had a weakness. He reached out to his assistant who handed the dog over to him and took her leave.

"Aww, you cute little thing," He cooed to the dog who didn't protest rather leaned into his touch.

However, Peter was not deceived by that harmless gesture. Noel was already making a statement by having his dog over here, it was pure blackmail.

"They said a dog is man's best friend but to some, it's family," Noel held his gaze, seeing through Peter's brave front.

"No, don't touch him!" He hollered with abject terror when Noel 's hands tightened around the dog's neck. He struggled against the restraints but it was bound really tight. There was no escaping this or Noel 's wrath.

Noel loosened his grip on the dog but his tone was taunt and his gaze dark,